


like atlas, we bear our worlds

by ephemeraltea (temporarily_obsessed)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Sex Pollen, in which sex pollen is not a sexy thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 01:07:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1326022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temporarily_obsessed/pseuds/ephemeraltea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because this blasphemy on Jason’s character- his person- scares Tim so much. More than that, though, it makes him angry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like atlas, we bear our worlds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [defcontwo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/defcontwo/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [肩负世界依然前行 / like atlas, we bear our worlds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3209150) by [blurryyou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurryyou/pseuds/blurryyou)
  * Inspired by [take just a little bit of a time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1324564) by [defcontwo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/defcontwo/pseuds/defcontwo). 



It goes like this- sometimes, in the busy cacophony of their lives, they get an overlap in their schedules.

Once they more or less move in together, that overlap happens even more often. Sometimes, this overlap is used for bitching at each other (their favorite topics include: each other, Gotham crime habits, Bruce, Gotham police, Dick, various informants, Batman, suit or weapon malfunctions, Robin, and the sundry heroes and vigilantes with whom they interact). Sometimes it’s used to ignore the other. Sometimes it’s used to simply talk, or cuddle (though Alfred forbid they call it that), or share a meal, or watch a movie… the list goes on.

Sometimes they have sex, in its varied and glorious forms. They aren’t fans of a rose petal path to the bed, or smooth jazz and champagne. Generally, it’s something like-

“So.” Tim walks into the kitchen and leans against the wall. It would look like a smooth move, but Jason happens to know that Tim got shot in the thigh a few days ago, and even though his suit kept the bullet from getting in, the bruise is a sight to see and feel. “I was finishing a report and I realized that I could really go for a blowjob.”

Jason stirs the sauce he has simmering on the stove, tilts his head, and replies with, “You offering?”

Tim sits at the kitchen table. “Yes. Obviously. But after dinner- also obviously.”

And they eat dinner, go to bed, and a blowjob turns into a reciprocal handjob and then sleep.

Or else the adrenalin of patrol is coursing through them when they slide in through the window and they play tonsil hockey until their uniforms are peeled off and can do something more.

Really, there are a number of ways they can end up in bed (or against a wall, every once in a while, for spice)- but there are also ways they don’t.

There are days, for instance, where Tim’s head pounds and he can feel every statistic he’s read since he was twelve ticking in his head, every name of a person he’s let die echo in his mind, and sex is honestly the last thing he wants to get up to. Or days where Jason is still angry, and being alone is better for Tim- for Gotham- for the _world._

Perhaps Tim is in the middle of a case-frenzy, too wired on his search and too focused and anything that distracts him might get punched. Maybe Jason is tired, so tired, of the blood used to write crass messages or the bodies callously burned in an attempt to hide evidence, but they missed the body of a seven-year-old girl, stripped and blank-eyed. These are times where they do not want to get up to anything- so they don’t.

There are times where one wants but the other just doesn’t- so they don’t.

_That is how it works. There are reasons for that- reason they never even needed to discuss why._

Reasons like the part of Jason’s childhood he will never talk about with Bruce or the rest, but that Tim knows because of one case that tore his boyfriend apart and made him spill his guts over a bottle of tequila. Reasons like Ra’s sick fuck of a plan to get an heir through Tim. Like Tarantula and Dick, like Talia and Bane, like any number of the cases they’ve solved over the years. _No_ and _not now_ are rock-solid, no-argument terms when it comes to their intimacies.

So Jason’s hands- hot, broad, and strong, sliding down his shoulder blades and onto his waist, hands that are normally such a comfort- feel like a brand and a lie.

“Tim, Tim, Tim,” Jason says, from where his mouth is pressed against Tim’s jaw, all feverish words and scalding breath. “C’mon, Tim, babe, you want to-“

“ _Jason,_ ” Tim gasps, the words like a shock of poison to his system. “ _No._ ”

Tim knows who Jason ran into on his patrol- Tim may have stayed home tonight, but Batman didn’t and he sent a message to Tim to have a sedative ready because they wouldn’t be able to get to the Red Hood before he hit their apartment. Because they knew Tim could handle this.

For once, Tim wishes he didn’t have their faith in his abilities. Because this blasphemy on Jason’s character- his person- scares Tim so much. More than that, though, it makes him angry.

Jason’s hands are sliding from Tim’s waist, where his shirt is rucked up, to his pants, and Tim takes the moment (and his rage) to remove his arms from the pin Jason’s arms had held them in- to grab the syringe from the counter, and stick it into Jason’s arm.

It takes a moment to knock Jason out, but when it does, Tim feels the full force of Jason’s bulk relax onto him in deadweight.

_I’m sorry, Jay,_ he thinks, because he knows how Jason feels about sedatives- but he’s not one-punch Red Hood. His remorse, however, is very quickly burned out by his fury.

_There are reasons._

Ivy better watch her back. For her to take away Jason’s ability to say no- to take away his ability to hear no- that is a sacrilege Tim can’t soon forget. When Jason wakes up, when the pollen is washed from his system, he will beat himself up for this for _fucking years to come._ He will look on this as the time he almost raped his boyfriend, that he didn’t take no for an answer-

And that kind of thing isn’t something Tim will forgive. He gathers Jason up as best he can, rolls him into their shared bed, and zip-ties him to the bed frame (which is made of cast iron, for a variety of reasons).

It seems almost sick, but right now... Tim wants Jason to hold him. Not sleep with him- and not this fucked-up, drugged-to-hell version of Jason- but the Jason that tied _him_ up and knocked him out when he was pollen’d up. But Tim would like the comfort of Jason’s built, warm arms and broad back and raspy breathing.

Instead he sits on the corner of the bed and waits for morning.


End file.
